


A Proposal Unexpected

by stephoxx



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flirting, Friends Supporting Friends TM, Friends to Lovers, Hilvain, Rare Pairings, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, and do they even have a ship name?, and golden deer too, basically all of the tropes, even if that friend is going to marry a man she doesn't really like, how is this ship not more popular?, if not I am officially dubbing it, it's just chef's kiss beautiful, lots of blue lions chats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephoxx/pseuds/stephoxx
Summary: “Tell you what. All will be forgiven if you promise three things - stop lying, take responsibility, and fall madly in love with me.” “Aw, Sylvain. I do love you, you know? I just...wouldn’t want you for a husband.”Fake Marriage AU because Sylvain and Hilda don’t have an A support and I’m mad about it.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	1. Proposal Undiscovered

**Author's Note:**

> Let me first start off by saying that I have no idea how this pair isn't more popular. The second I saw their C support I knew I wanted to pair them together, but Intsys clearly had other plans. Fic is the only way to fix this issue, so that is how this little story was born! I have no idea how many chapters there will be, but I'm expecting it to be quite a long ride. Strap in, grab some snacks, and hunker down for Fake Marriage Hilvain! :)

_“I'm sorry I haven't been myself, and something's got me down. What it is, I cannot tell. I won't be satisfied with anything I've earned. Fear is just a part of love. And one thing I found is love is what you deserve.”_

><><><

The day that Sylvain received a letter from Margrave Gautier was the only day that he did not flirt with a single entity, alive or otherwise. In fact, the monastery was so _silent_ that even Seteth could not enjoy the peace and quiet. 

The rumors that followed circulated with varying degrees of insanity. When Annette offered that perhaps Sylvain was sick, Ingrid responded more specifically that perhaps he finally caught something from all of his years skirt-chasing. Ashe worried that he dropped out of school and left for Gautier territory, but Felix concluded that the most likely possibility was that he accidentally severed his penis in a freak lance accident. 

But despite his own house frantically searching for him, the one who finally found him was none other than Hilda Valentine Goneril. Completely on accident, too, as it would have required far too much work to search for him _actively_.

“When I volunteered to check the rafters in the library, I did it so that I could finish painting my nails in peace,” Hilda huffed, peering up at Sylvain in that fake exasperated way she always had.

He was cramped in a crawl space near the ceiling in the library. It wasn’t originally a spot students were supposed to go, and more of an architectural error than anything else. At one point during the previous fall semester, Linhardt had managed to avoid everyone for nearly three days straight by napping up there. Eventually someone - rumored but never confirmed to be Caspar, in an attempt to get back into Linhardt’s good graces - fashioned a ladder for it, and the professors of Garreg Mach determined that it would _only_ be used henceforth as a secluded spot for studying. 

Or, in Sylvain’s case, whatever else he was doing. 

Sylvain rolled his eyes and grumpily turned his back away from her. “I don’t have time for this, Hilda.”

“Wow, and here I figured my admitting to actually doing a task myself would be more than grounds for you to tease me,” said Hilda. “Something must really be wrong.”

“Are you going to tell the others where I’m at?” Sylvain asked, ignoring her question.

Hilda stared down the long corridor of the library. She knew that Ignatz was somewhere in the wing, but it would take him ages to actually find them at the pace he usually went. And anyway, the only person she really had to report Sylvain’s whereabouts to was Dimitri. 

“Dimitri is checking the greenhouse, and that’s all the way on the other side of the monastery,” said Hilda. 

“So?”

“ _So_ , it would be a lot of work to walk all the way there and tell him. Why don’t we come to some sort of agreement that will work for everyone, hmm?”

“Like what?”

“How about _you_ paint my nails and then _I_ won’t tell anyone where you’re at.”

Sylvain stared down at her, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Hilda was so undeniably stubborn that once she got an idea in her head, there was no way he was going to get out of doing what she asked. Normally, he would jump at the chance to teasingly flirt with her as she was the only woman he knew who could take it and dish it at the same time. But today…

“Fine,” said Sylvain plainly.

He lowered the ladder to her and tried to ignore the satisfied smirk on her lips. She clambered up the wooden rungs with more grace than he would have expected from her dainty frame, and she slid into the small space next to him, pressing him firmly against the back side of the nook. 

“How did you even manage to fit up here?” Hilda asked, grunting as she struggled to sit comfortably in her dress.

Sylvain tried to shrink into the corner even more, as he was catching elbows, hands, and knees jabbing into his side somehow simultaneously. In truth, Sylvain did look rather ridiculous in the space. He was so tall that his legs were awkwardly crossed over one another, and he was ducking in a way that looked as though it was really hurting his neck. 

“If no one thought I could fit comfortably, then they wouldn’t try to look here,” said Sylvain.

Hilda huffed and then sighed, seemingly satisfied with her current level of comfortability, and pulled out the bottle of nail polish from a tiny brown bag. Sylvain was eyeing her all the while, waiting for her to say something - anything - about his lame attempt at a disappearance. Everybody knew everybody else’s business in the monastery, so it would only be a matter of time until the entire campus knew about the letter, too.

Sylvain stared at her quizzically for a few more moments before she realized he was waiting for the inevitable question. Hilda liked gossip, but only gossip that she _earned_ , after all.

“What?” She blinked in confusion. “I figured it’s personal, so I won’t ask unless you want me to.”

Sylvain shook his head. “Just hand me the polish.”

“Be careful. It’s the only one I have left. My brother sent it to me from Goneril territory. There is a lovely potion master there, and his wife makes this shade out of the supplies he doesn’t use. It’s truly one of a kind.” 

Hilda smiled proudly at the bottle, but Sylvain grimaced as soon as he opened it. A chemical aroma filled the space and the smell was so strong that Sylvain wondered if it was the same varnish they used to strip armor. 

“Pretty sure this is toxic,” said Sylvain, gulping in a breath as he examined the tiny, mauve-colored brush.

Hilda giggled. “I think there’s a phrase that goes ‘beauty is pain,’ or something like that.”

Sylvain nodded lamely and continued to stare at the bottle. Hilda’s brow furrowed and her eyes jumped around Sylvain’s face. He looked like the very definition of a lost puppy, and Hilda was the very definition of having no idea what to do in situations like that. Puppies, men, or emotional lifting of any kind, if she was being frank. 

“C’mon! Not even an ‘if beauty is pain, you must be mortally wounded?’” She feigned the deep and sultry voice he used during his flirtatious escapades, poising one hand against her forehead as if she were about to faint.

Sylvain merely shrugged.

She puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms over her chest. “I feel like I should be offended,” she said. 

Sylvain unraveled her arms from their crossed position much more forcefully than she would have liked, took her hand, and began to apply the polish. “Don’t take it personally. Just not in the mood.”

Before Hilda had time to make some sort of retort about how a true gentleman would never grab a lady in such a harsh manner (Unless she had first consented to it, of course. But that was not really any of Sylvain’s business.), she instead noticed how shaky his grasp was. His hands were cold and clammy, and having been on the receiving end of more than one unwanted caress, she knew he usually ran quite warm. 

“Sylvain…” she started slowly, genuine worry seeping into her words.

But he didn’t respond. It was like he was in an entirely different world, golden eyes glazing over and his head swimming millions of miles away. A big drop of polish splashed onto her nail then, leaking onto her skin and covering her fingers in mauve. 

“Sylvain!”

“Damnit,” he cursed under his breath. “If you wanted it to look nice you should’ve done it yourself.”

He thrust the polish back into her hands and moved to stand up.

“I’m going to find Dimitri,” he said. “The news will be out soon enough anyway.”

Hilda stared up at him helplessly, her mouth agape. Sure, she had seen Sylvain irritated before. Annoyed. Upset, even. But never so completely hopeless.

“Wait,” she said, finding her hand grasping the fabric on his sleeve before she even realized what she was doing. “I’m sorry. Stay.”

Sylvain stared off of the edge of the crawl space, his body hovering over Hilda’s all the while. Candlelight flickered against walls of unmoving books. No one was around, or even nearby. 

He sighed and then relented, shoulders sagging as he moved back into his uncomfortable position next to her. “Fine,” he said. “But only because I _really_ don’t want to tell Dimitri.”

Hilda nodded, satisfied, and then held up her hand to admire his rather shabby craftsmanship. “Honestly you did a pretty good job for your first time.” 

She wiggled her fingers in the air so he could see, and the faintest hint of a grin tugged at his lips. He pushed her hand away playfully, grin growing wider by the second.

“It looks like shit,” he said.

“Maybe it can be a new style? I am quite the trendsetter at Garreg Mach, you know. Soon all of the ladies will just flock to have you paint their nails after they see mine.”

Sylvain let out a sad bark of a laugh. “Yeah, if that mattered anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Hilda asked.

Sylvain’s eyes widened as he realized he said more than he intended. He looked at her, genuine concern in those big pink eyes, and he felt himself subconsciously tighten his fists at his sides, nails digging harshly into his palms. 

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone else. Not Claude. Not Marianne. Not a single soul,” said Sylvain.

Hilda nodded slowly, and at her agreement, Sylvain pulled the crumpled up letter from his pocket. With a shaking hand, he passed the letter to her, and wished that he could disappear into the floorboards the moment she opened it up.

“‘My son,’” Hilda started. “Oh, this is from Margrave Gautier?”

Sylvain nodded solemnly.

The handwriting looked rushed, but professional, as if it were scrawled by nobility but without much too much thought. From what little she knew about the Gautier family, they weren’t exactly the warmest of people. The treatment of Sylvain’s older brother was proof enough of that. 

“‘It has come to my attention that you have been using your time at Garreg Mach to woo and subsequently abandon all possible marriage candidates. You know as well as I that the Gautier crest relies solely on your shoulders. As such, I have formally submitted a request to…’” The gasp that emitted from Hilda’s mouth was loud enough to echo in the library and shake the dust off of the shelves. 

“Keep going,” said Sylvain sadly.

“‘W...withdraw you from the Monastery. Your bride-to-be will be awaiting your arrival upon your return. Sincerely, Margrave Gautier.’ Oh, Sylvain!”

There was a hand clamped over Hilda’s mouth as she dropped the letter on her lap. Out of all of the things that could have possibly been bothering him, she never expected that he would be dropping out of the Monastery. And not only dropping out, but dropping out in order to get married. Marriage and Sylvain went together as well as the cliche toothpaste and orange juice. Or, Hilda thought more accurately, Raphael and skipping meals. 

“The old man’s really got it out for me,” said Sylvain, shaking his head.

“What are you going to do?” Hilda asked.

Sylvain shrugged and pocketed the letter once more. “There’s nothing I can do. Accept my fate. Go home with my tail between my legs. Jump off of the nearest bridge I can find on the way home.”

“Don’t say that,” said Hilda. “You’ll figure a way out of this.”

Sylvain wanted to tell her that there was no way out. When his father decided something, it was final. That had always been the case. Even when it came to his own son, his first born son, it was final. Crests were all that mattered to the Margrave, and it would always be that way. But he didn’t have the energy to say anything at all.

So instead, silence passed between them for a moment. And Sylvain wasn’t sure what surprised him most: feeling Hilda’s head rest on his shoulder, or hearing her confidently say, “I’ll help you find a way out.” 


	2. Proposal Concocted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the childhood friends try to figure out a way to free Sylvain from an arranged marriage, and a newfound ally comes up with a plan. 
> 
> AKA the plot is set. 
> 
> (Thanks for all of the kudos/comments/bookmarks/hits, by the way! You never know if a rare pair is going to get any love and I'm feeling all of the warm fuzzies thanks to you guys.)

_"Forty days and forty nights  
I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life.  
All the days I waited for you  
You know the ones who said I'd never find someone like you."_  
  
><><><><

  
“I can’t believe I’m actually telling you to lie, but just do what I always do. Rip up the letter and pretend you never received it,” said Ingrid.

“Margrave Gautier already submitted a request to have him withdrawn, so that won’t work,” Felix countered.

“I could speak with him if you’d like,” said Dimitri.

Felix rolled his eyes. “All-powerful _boar_ , here to solve everyone’s problems but his own.”

Dimitri sighed. “Felix, I only meant that - ”

“Guys, stop. Thank you. I appreciate it. Really, I do. It’s just not gonna work,” said Sylvain.

The group was huddled together in Sylvain’s bedroom, and the flickering candlelight and cups of hot tea almost felt like they were kids again in Faerghus. _Almost._ Except with a back-breaking level of baggage and pending war continually on the horizon. 

Sylvain was a lot of things, but he was never a liar. As soon as Hilda had agreed to help him out, he took it upon himself to find Dimitri and fill him in. The group was shocked to say the least. And they were presently helping in their own unique ways. Ingrid providing reckless solutions under the guise of maturity, Felix bluntly stating facts without any real solutions, and Dimitri quite unaware that his “helping” wasn’t really helping at all. 

“So then what _are_ you going to do?” Ingrid asked eventually, mustering up the courage to say the one thing they were all thinking.

“Go home and get married, I guess,” said Sylvain sadly.

“You can’t rebuke your father’s name and swear off any claims to Gautier territory instead?” For every bit as intelligent as Ingrid was, many of her more fantastical ideas were rooted in the books that she read. All fiction, all romanticizing blazing one’s own trail and having everything work out in the end.

But Sylvain was more jaded than that. He knew it would never work.

“Where would he go aftwards? And what would he do?” Felix asked.

The sharpness of Felix’s tone was not unusual, although the intensity of it was something Sylvain rarely saw. It was a sharpness reserved for the battlefield and speaking about his father. Even Dimitri was rarely on the receiving end of one of Felix’s tongue-lashings.

“Dimitri could take him in! I’m sure the Kingdom would -” Ingrid started, her voice rising the more defensive she was getting.

“There’s no use arguing about it,” said Sylvain. “I wouldn’t leave the people living in Gautier territory in my father’s care forever. It would be selfish.”

“Spoken like a true noble,” said Dimitri quietly. “You’ve grown up a lot.”

Sylvain managed a sad grin. “I’m still older than you, Your Majesty.”

Dimitri winced at the name but the smallest of smiles still tugged at the corner of his lips in jest.

“How long do we have until your withdrawal paperwork goes through?” Ingrid asked.

“I’d say it’ll probably take a week once the letter is received. Lady Rhea is quick about paperwork. And Professor Byleth is a no nonsense kind of person. I’m sure she’ll let him go as soon as she receives the word,” said Dimitri.

“So we have a week to figure out how to get you to stay, in other words,” said Felix, his hand poised on his chin in thought. 

Or, as Sylvain knew better, an easy way to cover up the expression of relief as the aura in the room quickly became a blanket of newfound hope.

“Actually, I might have an ally working on helping, too,” said Sylvain, before he could really think about what he was saying.

Did he want to bring Hilda into this? He hadn’t really spoken to her since she offered to help, and it could have merely been lip service. And although much of Hilda’s personality revolved around lip service to get out of work, the way she rested her head on his shoulder couldn’t have meant insincerity. 

Still…he supposed he didn’t _really_ know.

“Oh? Who is it?” Dimitri asked.

“No one. It’s, uhh, no one you guys know,” said Sylvain, wincing as he knew that backtracking only looked more suspicious. 

Ingrid’s raised eyebrow was proof enough that they did not believe him in the slightest.

“A member of the Blue Lion house?” Ingrid pressed.

“Well, no. Not exactly. Look, it doesn’t matter,” said Sylvain, shrugging and attempting to stand to leave, despite the room belonging to him.

Ingrid and Felix each grabbed one of Sylvain’s arms and yanked, pulling him back down to a sitting position on the floor. If it didn’t remind them of being children before, it definitely did now. Dimitri allowed himself a private smile that he thought no one noticed, and Sylvain rubbed his backside to relieve the sudden pain in his tailbone. 

“This conversation will be over as soon as you tell us,” said Felix. “So stop being such a dolt and get on with it.”

“ _Fine_. It’s Hilda,” said Sylvain, averting his gaze to the floor, or the ceiling, or the window on the opposite wall. Anywhere that wasn’t directly at the trio.

“Hilda?” Ingrid asked.

“Yep. Now, like you said, the conversation can be over,” said Sylvain, moving to stand again.

Which received another yank, and another bruise for his tailbone.

“Why her?” Felix asked.

“She offered,” said Sylvain, shrugging.

Dimitri laughed and shook his head. “Hilda doesn’t _offer_ to do things. She offers to opt out of them.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. She said she’d help and that’s it.”

“Sylvain Jose Gautier.” Ingrid’s voice was dipping into the deep tone she used before he received a swift whap to the head. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing!” said Sylvain. “Jeez, you guys have a pretty low opinion of me, huh?”

Felix snorted. “Your reputation with women precedes you.”

“Can’t a beautiful woman want to help a beautiful man without any sort of ulterior motive or coaxing?” Sylvain asked, flashing them one of his signature smiles, complete with two sets of brilliantly white teeth.

“Not if that ‘beautiful man’ is you and the ‘beautiful woman’ in question is just as scheming as you are,” said Ingrid.

“Alright, come now,” said Dimitri. “If she offered to help, then that is her perogative. We should be grateful that we have another mind working on this with us.”

Sylvain sighed with relief. Dimitri, always the voice of reason.

“I’m sure she does know an awful lot about noble marriages,” said Felix. 

“And since Ingrid can’t help in that department, we needed another feminine perspective,” teased Sylvain, finally earning that whap to the side of the head he was waiting for.

“I might not have the _feminine_ vices you’re looking for,” Ingrid sniffed. “But I will hole myself up in the library to try and find some sort of loophole for you.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Dimitri. “You won’t be leaving for Gautier territory anytime soon.”

><><><><

The following twenty four hours were less than helpful. Ingrid spent almost all of her time researching old law books regarding early claims to territory. With Miklan out of the picture and Sylvain already twenty years old, Ingrid figured there might be a way to usurp Gautier territory without any real hassle. The trail must have gone cold, as Sylvain never heard an update from her.

Dimitri was doing his best to use his connections without abusing them, as Margrave Gautier was an ally that deserved respect from a future King’s standpoint. And Felix, although never outwardly admitting a plan, was seen speaking with a few of Garreg Mach’s soldiers. No doubt attempting to conjure up a new job for Sylvain in case he had no other options.

With no solutions on the horizon, Sylvain did the only other thing he liked to do as much as he liked to flirt: eat. And when he made his way to the Dining Hall, he saw two bubblegum pink pigtails amidst a sea of students.

Hilda was sitting by herself for once with a contemplative look on her face and the end of a quill tapping absently against her chin.

“Hey, Hilda,” said Sylvain, sitting across from her with his tray of gray. 

The menu said it was some sort of stew, but whenever cuisine from Faerghus was on the menu, ‘tray of gray’ was the only appropriate label for it. Damn, did Dedue need to get into the kitchen and sneak some spices in every once in a while.

Before he could even get another word in, Hilda slammed her hands against the table and stood triumphantly.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed, and then pointed directly at him. “You’re going to marry me.”


	3. Proposal First Spoken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on the 2nd chapter! This next one is very dialogue heavy, but I love the dynamic between Sylvain and Hilda so much that I would be willing to write them talking about anything. :)

_Bad ideas,_ _I know where they lead  
But I got too many to sleep  
And I can't get enough, no.  
  
_><><><><

Sylvain choked on his drink, the air, her words, while Hilda stood there beaming. He frantically searched for a napkin, spluttering “whats” and “hows” in between coughs. Hilda graciously handed him her own napkin, rolling her eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

“If I knew you were going to react like _that,_ I wouldn’t have proposed it at all,” she huffed.

Sylvain inhaled deeply and croaked out a, “Hold on.” But Hilda was Hilda, so she of course did not ‘hold on.’ 

“Look,” she said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and this is the best I could come up with.”

Sylvain guffawed. “I’m worried about getting married, so your brilliant plan to get me out of marriage is by... _marrying me?_ ”

“Sylvain! If you’d just shut up for more than half a second I could explain.”

He crossed his arms in defeat and slumped back in his chair. He could feel the burning eyes of other students on him, boring holes into the back of his skull with their laser focus. He was used to this, of course, but Hilda’s announcement made the uneasy feeling much more prevalent. Had any of them heard, he wondered? Surely Hilda cared enough about her own reputation not to shout something so scandalous that loudly. 

Sylvain held out his hand, non-verbally cueing Hilda to clue him in on her brilliant idea.

“Your father wants you to settle down and stop chasing away all possible marriage candidates, right?” The flickering intensity of the brilliance of her budding plan was shining in her eyes once again.

Sylvain was still unsure whether to be happy about this or completely terrified. He supposed by the butterflies suddenly barreling through his stomach it was a healthy combination of the two. 

“Yeah, but I don’t see how - ” 

Hilda sighed, exasperated.

“- Sorry. Continue.”

“So I was thinking that we could stage a fake marriage. You won’t have to leave the academy because you already found someone - _me_ \- and your father will have no choice but to abandon his idea of an arranged marriage. I’m part of a noble house with a crest-bearing bloodline, so the match looks perfect on paper.”

“Okay, but why would you want to marry me?” 

“I don’t,” said Hilda simply.

A pause. Hilda blinked at him matter-of-factly and Sylvain simply sat there, eyes squinted in confusion as he racked his brain for any possible motive she might have. The shock of her proposal left his brain feeling like static, so he came up empty-handed.

“I’m sorry,” said Sylvain, shaking his head. “I just really don’t get it.”

Hilda shrugged and sat back down at the table. “I promised I would help you out, and I owe you one after the library book incident.”

Sylvain chuckled, and ran one hand through his hair. “A simple kiss on the cheek would’ve more than evened that out.”

“True,” said Hilda. “But the marriage won’t be real. My family doesn’t even need to know about it. We keep up appearances, act like the completely in love engaged couple that we are, and I get to plan a wedding so that I’m an expert when I finally do get married.”

“I guess, but - ”

“And can you just imagine how _gorgeous_ the dresses are in Fhirdiad?”

“But Hilda - ”

“The food might need some work, but maybe Dedue could - ”

“Hilda!”

Sylvain didn’t realize he had stood up until he yelled her name. If the students in the dining hall weren’t staring before, all eyes were definitely on them now. Hilda blinked in surprise, and settled back into her chair, the faintest hint of an embarrassed blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“Will you even be happy pretending to marry me?” Sylvain asked, lowering his voice so the other students couldn’t hear.

He wondered why he asked the question as soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth. If she had asked to marry him at any other point, he would have jumped at the chance to say yes. Fake marriage or not, Hilda was absolutely beautiful. Anyone with eyes could see that. But there was some sort of gnawing feeling inside of him that was keeping him from fully jumping on board.

Hilda smiled, and stretched out one hand to grab his own across the table. She gave it a squeeze and said as earnestly as she could, “It isn’t about me this time.”

Sylvain stared at her, trying to keep his jaw from dropping so far it would crash through the table and into the floorboards. 

“I don’t get you,” he said, sitting back down. “There’s gotta be something in this for you. That’s how you work. Or I guess, how you get _out_ of work.”

Hilda shrugged. “Looks like you’ll have to work on uncovering all of my secrets then.”

The sly grin she gave him began to settle the nerves still raging inside of him. Sylvain shot her a devilish smile, which would have been admittedly quite handsome had it been from anyone other than him. 

“I want to uncover everything about you, Hilda,” he said, beaming at her with the sort of smolder she had seen him use hundreds of times before.

She stuck out her tongue and pulled her hand away from his. “Save it for the Margrave.”

They laughed together for a moment until Sylvain caught her eye in earnest. 

“Thank you, though. Really, I mean it. You’re saving me,” he said.

Hilda waved away the compliment, although she could feel her cheeks heat ever so slightly. “I deserve a thanks from the ex bride-to-be waiting for you in Gautier territory. A loveless marriage is no marriage at all.”

“Suppose you’ll have to actually fall in love with me then, right?” 

Hilda laughed, full-bellied and loudly. Sylvain pouted then, to which Hilda gave him a knowing look. “Don’t fool yourself, Sylvain. Like we’re either of each other’s types.”

“I guess,” said Sylvain, still sulking.

Hilda opened the pad of parchment beside her and brought the quill back to her chin in thought. “We need to figure a few things out, though.”

“Like what?” Sylvain asked, perking up again. “Like when we’re going to have our first kiss? I mean I could make it romantic, but given the circumstances maybe now…?”

He began to lean forward, lips puckered exaggeratedly. Hilda held up the notepad and he received a mouthful of parchment instead of her lips.

“Fake relationship or not, you aren’t skipping out on any of the romance,” said Hilda simply, and that was the end of that conversation. “We need to make sure it’s convincing, you know?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat. “I suppose you’re right. And I guess it’s every man’s dream to get to take a beautiful woman on multiple dates.”

“Exactly,” said Hilda. “But in the meantime, what’s the next step?”

Sylvain thought about it for a moment, trying to put the initial shock of the topic of conversation out of his mind. He felt as though his head were swimming above the clouds, stuck in some sort of weird dream that he couldn’t wake up from no matter how many times he lightly pinched himself underneath the table. His nails were purposefully short, so perhaps he just wasn’t able to pinch hard enough to wake himself up.

“There’s that assembly at the end of the week before finals and break,” said Sylvain. “We could just announce it to the Monastery then.”

“In front of _everyone_?” Hilda asked. “Do you know how many girls are going to want to slit your throat if we do that?”

Sylvain thought about it for a moment. “Probably at least a dozen, but that isn’t out of the ordinary.”

Hilda threw a piece of bread at him from her untouched tray. “I cannot believe I’m going to put my reputation as a noble on the line for you.”

Sylvain caught the bread with one hand and took a bite out of it. “We’re already sharing food. So _domestic_ of you, Hilda. But in all seriousness, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” she said, sighing. “But like I said, I owe you one.”

Sylvain wanted to call her out again. To tell her that there was no way fake marrying him was in any way equal to settling her debt with the librarian. To tell her that he knew she was hiding something and he was going to figure out what it was somehow. 

But it was futile. She would tell him when she was ready. _If_ she was ever ready.

“Alright,” said Sylvain, standing. 

He did not really touch his food, and he noticed that she hadn’t either, but there was a strange, excited buzz inside of his gut and he did not feel particularly hungry anymore. 

“Start preparing what you’re going to say,” she said, not looking up from the parchment before he could walk away. “If I’m putting everything on the line for you, it needs to sound like you’re deliriously in love with me.”

Sylvain smiled and he bent down unnecessarily close to her to put the piece of bread she had thrown at him back on her tray. 

His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered, “Whatever you say, future Mrs. Gautier.”

And although she mostly wanted to plunge a training axe into his abdomen, she could not help but notice the way the words sent a shiver down her spine. He would make this an interesting adventure, she supposed, if nothing else.


	4. Proposal Announced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter was a Fall Out Boy song it would be titled "Proposal Announced: What Happens when Two of the Biggest Liars Make a Class Announcement." 
> 
> There are so many reasons why I love this chapter and at least ten of them are because of Lorenz. (Thx again for all of the love <3 I haven't churned out chapters like this since the days of still having serotonin in 2009.)

_"Man, I'm never the same_   
_We were shot gun lovers, I'm a shot gun running away"_

  
><><><><

“Are you alright?” Marianne was knocking so lightly on the bathroom door that at first Hilda thought the wood was simply settling into place for the night.

“Hm? Oh, yeah! Just fine, Marianne. I’ll be out in a second,” Hilda chirped, turning on the sink and staring up at herself in the mirror.

She gripped the sink so hard that her knuckles turned a ghostly white and her hands shook all the way up to her shoulders. Did her hair look okay? How about her makeup? Of course, she thought, she always looked impeccable. But butterflies were running around inside of her gut, jumping over and around one another until her intestines were a tangled, nervous mess. 

Today was the day that they agreed to make the marriage announcement. Professors Hanneman, Manuela, and Byleth were holding an end of the semester rally, so it was the only time that all three houses would be together before break and therefore the only time to make the announcement. 

Hilda supposed she should have told someone that she was planning on doing this and that it would be a complete farce. At least Marianne. Probably Claude. Imagining the looks on their faces when they find out that not only was she romantically interested in  _ Sylvain  _ of all people, but that she was irrevocably in love with him was enough to make her pitch back over the sink in a bout of nervous nausea. 

But of course she had made up her mind and there was no changing that, so she straightened, brushed her teeth, and unlocked the bathroom door. Keeping Marianne waiting any longer would have resulted in more unnecessary suspicion, anyway.

“I was - wow, you look lovely,” said Marianne in that airy voice she used whenever she worried she was bothering someone.

“Thanks,” said Hilda, smoothing out the front of her dress with her palms. She had used just a tad extra blush on her cheeks and dabbed just an ounce or two extra perfume on her wrists. “And thank you for coming to check in on me. Wouldn’t want to miss the rally, right?”

“Right.” Marianne nodded. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yep! But first, promise me something?”

“What’s that?”

“Keep being my best friend?”

Marianne smiled, a truly rare occasion. In fact, it was such a rarity that when it happened the entire room was usually stunned into silence. At first because of how unsettling it was, true. But then... It wasn’t until… Hilda’s heart leapt into her throat when she remembered who was the cause of Marianne’s smile improvement. Sylvain was the only one determined enough to teach her - the only one who cared at the time. Hilda was grateful to him for this, and Marianne was, too, so maybe she wouldn’t be so hurt that Hilda didn’t tell her after all?

“We’ll always be friends, Hilda,” she said.

An odd sensation hit Hilda at the confidence in Marianne’s voice. She felt her eyes prickle hotly and her throat begin to tighten, and she threw her arms around Marianne’s neck so that she would not see. Hilda Valentine Goneril did not cry, after all. 

“Oh!” Marianne exclaimed, awkwardly patting her friend’s back in confused consolement. “Hilda, what’s - ”

“Nothing,” said Hilda quickly, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “Let’s go to the rally, okay?”

><><><><   
  


“Are you ready?” Sylvain asked, peering out at the crowd from behind drawstring curtains Maneula put up for ‘dramatic effect’ a few semesters prior.

Whatever nerves Hilda had been feeling before dissipated the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. She had a knack of swallowing any uncomfortable emotions for the sake of being, well, more comfortable. And she had to admit that seeing Sylvain helped the nervous feeling subside somewhat. He was oddly comforting despite the situation being foreign to both of them. In part, it made her angry because she knew how good he was at putting on an act. But a second part, in a much more concealed place, was grateful that she had someone who could match her deceit. She was only acutely aware that lying about getting out of training and general tasks was much less serious than lying about marriage, though.

“Only if you’re ready to break the hearts of everyone left at the academy,” said Hilda.

Sylvain chuckled. “Pretty sure I’ve already done that.”

“I was talking about suitors for _ me _ , silly,” said Hilda slyly.

He opened his mouth to retort, but couldn’t keep the grin off of his lips. She smiled at him innocently, blinking those big pink eyes, and he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. She would make a good partner, for however long it lasted. That was the only thing he was certain of.

A loud scraping sound brought them back to reality, and Sylvain peaked his head out from behind the curtains again to see the cause of the noise. Hanneman was standing at the podium, awkwardly yanking on it to try and adjust its height. Flayn had just finished speaking about how  _ wonderful _ the semester had been with all of the  _ wonderful  _ students, and Sylvain wished he had been counting how many times she used the adjective in her speech.

As soon as the scraping sound subsided and Hanneman had earned his fair share of irritated glares from the students, Hanneman cleared his throat awkwardly, and moved his perfectly clean spectacles down the bridge of his nose to read from the parchment in front of him. “And now, we would like to present a rather... _ special _ kind of announcement. Please welcome to the stage Sylvain Jose Gautier and Hilda Valentine Goneril, oddly enough.”

“Now or never, sweetheart,” Sylvain whispered.

Sylvain’s hand was at the small of Hilda’s back as the pair emerged onstage. He felt warm against her skin, and she couldn’t help but lean ever so slightly against him for support. Especially as soon as she saw the confused squint Claude was giving her. 

But Sylvain was smiling all the while, almost beaming, and she was surprised how infectious his energy was.

This was a good thing she was doing.  _ They  _ were doing.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” said Sylvain, catching Hanneman’s befuddled expression from across the stage. 

“Most of you know me,” he continued. “But if you don’t, my name is Sylvain. Heir to House Gautier, since that apparently matters.”

A few boos rang through the crowd. Hilda glanced at the offenders, a group of Black Eagles girls and an overexcited Lorenz sitting behind them. She pursed her lips in their direction in that perfectly poised way she had. Nobility never outwardly showed their distaste, but her brother had long ago taught her little ways to let others know when they were stepping into dangerous territory. 

“I know I’ve never really been one to stick to anything,” said Sylvain. 

A chorus of “we know!” and “not a surprise!” rang through the gaggle of Black Eagles girls and Lorenz, once again. 

Sylvain chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah. I know you know. But the reason that I’m here today, before all of you, is because I’m here to announce that I’m in love with a beautiful woman.”

The crowd seemed unaffected, rather than the few who were either angry with Sylvain already or curious as to why Hilda was standing up there with him.

It wasn’t until Sylvain added, “A woman that I’m going to marry this summer” that a rumble of surprised murmurs erupted in the audience. 

Hilda caught Marianne’s eye for the briefest of moments, enough to see the look of concern swimming to the surface. Claude was next to her, still squinting up at Hilda in suspicion. She was sure there were thousands of scenarios running through his tactical mind, and she was even more certain that at least one of them was correct. She even forced herself to glance at the Blue Lions, where Ingrid was whispering something to Felix, who was staring at Sylvain almost knowingly. 

“And that woman is Hilda,” said Sylvain finally.

And chaos rang through the auditorium.

Lorenz gasped and moved to stand up, nearly tripping over himself to get the chance to object first, but Leonie harshly yanked his arm and kept him in his seat. 

At the mention of her name, Hilda tore her eyes away from her classmates and friends, and her gaze fell on Sylvain. He was holding out his hand to her, smiling at her sincerely with those golden caramelly eyes. Despite the yelling coming from the audience, Hilda smiled back at Sylvain, and laced her fingers with his to prove that what he said was true. 

“I know this might come as a shock to some,” said Hilda, stepping up to the podium with Sylvain at her side.

It took all of her power to steal a glance at the Golden Deer again. Claude’s arms were crossed, and he had the same look on his face that he got whenever they were in strategy meetings. Marianne’s hands were neatly clasped together in her lap, as if she were praying, but her eyes were still trained on Hilda like a hawk.

Hilda took a deep breath and concluded with as much courage as she could muster, “But I love him.”

He felt her squeeze his hand, and he was sure that if they were alone his knees would have buckled in surprise. The way she was speaking to the entirety of Garreg Mach with so much conviction almost made  _ him  _ believe it, too.

“We thought it best to announce it to you all first,” Hilda continued. “You know, before the Margrave officially gives us his blessing.” 

She chuckled away the sudden nausea that bubbled in her stomach. That was the next step, she supposed. Meeting the Margave. Meeting Sylvain’s family. 

“We leave for Gautier territory the morning after term ends,” said Sylvain.

Sylvain must have realized this, too, because he stuck his thumb in between their laced fingers and began to run it in circles on her palm, wordlessly soothing any sudden worries that she might have had.

“In the meantime, I’d ask you all to respect our privacy as a couple,” said Sylvain evenly, squeezing Hilda’s hand every once in a while to reassure her that he was still there. 

Something about the way that he was touching her was calming her nerves. She felt her heart slow to a normal rate once again, and the world stopped spinning in front of her. With this newfound confidence, she stepped back up to the podium and raised their joined hands in the air.

“Keep checking your mailboxes, though,” she said. “If I learned anything from the Goneril family, it’s that I really know how to throw a reception!”

The audience was a mixture of emotions. There was some proud applauding, a few whoops from Caspar and Raphael - probably in reference to the mention of a party - and others who were merely clapping out of politeness. Dimitri was included among them, although Hilda could sense his hesitancy from the stage. Others were completely dumbfounded or downright upset at the announcement. Most of her own house fell into the latter two categories. 

Sensing the awkwardness, Seteth in all of his green-robed glory swept onto the stage and ushered Sylvain and Hilda away from the podium. 

“Well that was quite a bit of news,” Seteth said. “I’m sure you will all have time to offer your congratulations or condolences, as it may be. But until then, the term is not quite finished and I know all of your professors are expecting each student to make high marks on their final exams.”

The antsy audience slowly began to sink back into their seats, readying themselves for another Seteth lecture on the importance of education and using one’s talents to praise the Goddess. 

Sylvain and Hilda rendezvoused behind the auditorium, all nervous smiles and bubbling over with leftover adrenaline. 

“I cannot  _ believe  _ we just did that!” said Hilda, letting out a single hysterical sounding giggle.

“Did you see Claude’s face? He was thinking so hard I thought his head might explode,” said Sylvain.

“Ingrid looked as though she wanted to rip your head right off of your neck,” Hilda countered, not particularly looking forward to thinking about or talking to Claude. 

“They’ll figure it out, you know,” said Sylvain, quickly sobering.

Hilda nodded. “I’m sure most of them have already. I might have to tell Claude. Just to make sure he doesn’t write to my parents.”

Sylvain nodded. “I’d never ask you to keep secrets for me.”

“Unless it’s for your family,” said Hilda slyly.

“Family and the entirety of Gautier territory.” 

Sylvain chuckled along with her, until he realized that he was very much still holding her hand. He gulped down a breath, and she noticed it, too, as both of their gazes went directly to their interlocked fingers. His thumb was even still absently tracing circles around her palm. 

Hilda pulled away first and rubbed her hands on the sides of her dress. Sylvain stuffed his quickly into his pockets and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Anyway, I should probably head back to let the Blue Lions rip me a new one,” said Sylvain, jabbing his thumb nowhere near the direction of the Blue Lions dormitory.

Hilda nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure the Golden Deer have their fair share of questions, too.”

“We’ll talk details after exams tomorrow, okay?” Sylvain asked, already a handful of feet down a monastery path that definitely still did not lead to the right dormitory.

Hilda merely nodded again, rubbing her own thumb against her palm and wondering what Sylvain could have possibly done that made it feel so much _ different. _


	5. Proposal Refuted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We only drink Respect Marianne juice in this household! AKA me writing all of the characters that I can in one chapter because I love them.

_“I try convincing my friends that you're not right for me._

_We just don't make any sense, but still you fight for me._

_I keep repeating, repeating the way we shouldn't be.”_

><><><><

  
“Are you out of your mind?” Ingrid asked. “Sincerely, I think you’ve gone mad.”

“No, Ingrid,” said Sylvain, sighing and shrugging out of the tight grasp she had on his shoulder.

“You can’t actually love her. You don’t even  _ know  _ her,” said Ingrid.

Sylvain opened his mouth to counter, but Felix’s voice appeared suddenly in the doorway. “You loved Glenn and you barely knew him.”

“Well, yes, but that was only because our parents - ”

Felix raised his eyebrows, waiting for Ingrid to put two and two together.

“The letter!” she gasped.

“Precisely,” said Felix. “So the petition to withdraw you from the academy went through, then? Margrave Gautier is worse than I thought.”

“And to pick Hilda, of all people,” said Ingrid, shaking her head.

Sylvain barked out a laugh. “Wait you think Hilda is the one my  _ father  _ chose?”

“She isn’t?” Ingrid asked.

Sylvain shook his head. “We very much chose each other, if you know what I mean.”

The slap upside the head and exasperated “Sylvain!” that came from Ingrid was expected, but not entirely unwelcome. It made him feel like himself again, if only for a moment.

“But you don’t love her,” said Felix knowingly.

“I love every attractive woman I meet,” countered Sylvain, and no one could possibly argue with him that it was a lie.

But Felix was still glowering at him despite this. “Drop the act. I’m not going to run and tell your father.” 

Sylvain sighed. “Alright, fine. It’s arranged. But we arranged it, Hilda and I.”

“Why on earth would she want to marry you?” Ingrid asked.

“I’m just gonna ignore how hurt I should be by that comment,” said Sylvain. “To be honest, I’m not sure. It was her idea, though.”

“What does her family think? I don’t know much about Goneril territory, but I’ve heard that her brother is quite fearsome. Surely he would have something to say about this,” said Ingrid.

“I’m sure her family doesn’t even know,” said Felix.

Sylvain nodded. “They don’t, and she intends on keeping it that way. So if someone spills the beans, I’ll know who.” 

><><><><

“Oh, I know, you’re crazy. I put you through one too many training drills and you snapped,” said Claude, pacing back and forth in the Golden Deer common room so rapidly that Hilda was worried he was going to make a vertical hole right through the hardwood.

“No, Claude, I - ” 

“Sylvain?!  _ Sylvain, _ Hilda. Did you even hear yourself up there?”

“Claude, calm down,” said Marianne.

All Golden Deer eyes shot to where Marianne was standing. She visibly gulped down a breath and stood up, grabbing Hilda’s hand. “You don’t know him,” she said quietly, giving Hilda a small squeeze.

Lorenz laughed. “And you do?”

Marianne smiled gently. “I do.”

“And anyway, does it really matter if we know him or if we don’t?” Leonie asked. “Hilda said she loves him.”

Claude shook his head. “I just don’t get it. I don’t think I’ve even seen the two of you together.”

“Maybe it was all midnight rendezvous and stolen kisses between classes?” offered Raphael. 

“That is  _ very  _ Sylvain,” said Lysithea. “But Hilda wouldn’t miss sleeping for something so trivial.”

“Guys,” said Hilda. “I just need you to trust me on this one, okay?”

“What does he have on you? It can’t possibly be  _ that  _ bad that you’d need to marry him,” Claude continued, not listening at all to what Hilda was saying. “Unless it had something to do with your family? But the Gautiers and the Gonerils don’t have any business with one another.”

“Claude,” said Hilda, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look her in the eyes.

Green met pink, and Hilda knew Claude well enough to know that even though he was looking at her, he wasn’t really looking at her at all. There were a million different scenarios running through his mind, all of which could not possibly be true.

“This is what I want, okay? We can talk about it later if you really want to know more. But for now, Professor Hanneman needs us to study for the final exam tomorrow,” said Hilda.

Claude eyed her knowingly. She would tell him, just not in front of everyone else. He sighed and turned to the rest of the Golden Deer.

“She’s right. No matter how crazed Hilda clearly is, it’s a conversation for another time,” said Claude, shooting a wink back in Hilda’s direction.

She rolled her eyes in response. Perhaps that was why she was already good at bantering with Sylvain. For many intents and purposes, he was just a flirtier version of Claude.

The Golden Deer shuffled out of the common room, Leonie and Raphael speaking so loudly about training the next day that Hilda did not get a chance to hear if any of her other housemates were still talking about her.

“I’ve seen his heart,” said Marianne, turning and standing in the doorway. “And it’s good. I don’t know why you’re actually doing this, but you’re my best friend and I trust you.”

Hilda felt herself wanting to yell, to let the words bubble out of her mouth and pour over Marianne like steam overheating on the stove. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Claude was the only real threat to tell her parents, so he was the only one who could know for now.

“Alright, spill,” said Claude, flinging a chalkboard eraser in her direction.

Hilda reached out and caught it without thinking. Her reflexes were one of the best in her class. Hanneman and even Byleth had often told her that if she would only  _ try  _ a little bit harder, she’d be able to plunge an ax into enemies a few hundred feet away. 

“The truth? Or should I tiptoe around it and only tell you parts of it like  _ someone  _ in this room?” Hilda teased.

“The truth,” said Claude, eyes still serious despite the playful grin on his lips.

Hilda sighed. “It’s quite simple, really. Margrave Gautier was going to marry Sylvain off to some random woman in order to keep the integrity of their name alive. He didn’t want to do that, so I’m marrying him instead.”

Claude guffawed for the first time, and Hilda believed she had truly rendered him speechless.

“But...why? I’ve known you for  _ years _ , Hilda. I can figure out the battle plans of strangers I’d never even heard of before, but  _ you  _ are somehow still an enigma to me.”

“It’s a fake marriage, Claude. I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you. And the only reason I’m telling you now is so you don’t write to my parents.”

Claude chuckled, then laughed, then burst into a full-bellied chortle. “In all of my time scheming I never thought I’d meet someone who came up with a more mischievous plan than me. How do you expect to pull it off when it’s time to end it? Won’t the Margrave expect you to have all of Sylvain’s little crest babies?”

Hilda’s stomach flip-flopped at the thought of having Sylvain’s children. Not because she didn’t like kids, she very much intended to have her own someday. But because having Sylvain’s children meant being _ intimate _ with Sylvain.

But instead she merely waved the thought off with her hand. “We’ll figure it out when it’s time. The point right now is to get the Margrave off of his back so he doesn’t have to permanently leave Garreg Mach.”

Claude strode over to Hilda rather casually, but with a fire in his eyes burning bright enough to scorch the entire dormitory down. She saw it when they were in battle, or when he was speaking about his family, but he had never had that look towards her before. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the face.

“This is what you want?” he asked.

Hilda was stunned into momentary silence. She was Claude’s most trusted advisor, and one of his closest friends. She’d gladly take a sword through the heart if he asked her to, although she would never admit to it. He trusted her with his life, and she needed him to trust her about this, too.

“Yes,” she said, with just as much confidence as she had fake-admitting her feelings for Sylvain earlier that day.

“Okay,” said Claude, his hands dropping back to his sides and the intense expression burning out like a gust of wind on a lit wick. “I trust you. Do what you gotta do.”

“You mean it?” Hilda asked.

Claude nodded. “Marianne doesn’t trust people. She barely trusts me. But if she was willing to vouch for Sylvain’s character, he must be at least a step above decent.”

Hilda nodded until the warm feeling that was trying to settle in her gut went away. “Not a word to anyone who knows anything about the Goneril family.”

Claude mimed locking his lips with a key and then tossing it behind him. “Not a word.”

They shared a moment of silence, Hilda staring out the door and down the grassy expanse of land in front of the classrooms, and Claude contemplating just how his retainer had gotten so reckless yet so brave when a week before she wanted nothing more than to do  _ nothing. _

“So what’s next?” Claude asked, breaking the silence.

Hilda took a deep breath and held it in her cheeks for a few seconds before puffing out. “Take the final exam. Then head with Sylvain to Gautier territory, I guess.”

And despite the fact that she was speaking the words out loud, the feeling of actually leaving had not quite hit her yet. 


End file.
